


awash in golden light

by glim



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Inspired by Art, M/M, New Year's Kiss, Romance, Sunrises, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: The snow-covered world around them is awash in golden light, on the brink of a new year, and Steve feels the newness, the joy and warmth, in the press of Sam's mouth against his, at the brush of Sam's eyelashes against his cheek as he leans up to kiss Steve over and over again.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36
Collections: SamSteve Small Gifts





	awash in golden light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinni/gifts).



> Written for SamSteve Small Gifts Exchange 2019. 
> 
> Inspired by [this gorgeous art](https://twitter.com/itscinni/status/1182043551112269824) by Cinni. 
> 
> Cinni, I hope my small story did justice to your beautiful art. I hope 2020 is a year of all glorious things for you, as that is what you deserve. <33

Steve gets the text a little after six a.m. and the relief that washes over him at the chime and buzz of his phone is indescribable. He takes a moment to hold the phone to his chest, to close his eyes and let the feeling sink in. 

After three days off the grid, his husband is home. Sam's back, he's safe and in debrief, and within an hour, he'll be _home._ Steve will never stop being proud of Sam and the way he holds that shield, but he'll also never stop feeling relieved every time Sam comes home to him. 

The moment settles around Steve with a quiet warmth. They're six hours into the new year, but the day hasn't really started yet, not until the sun rises and Steve gets his arms around Sam again. 

He stands to stretch the sore stiffness of a night spent out on the sofa from his shoulders. Sam will have showered before his debrief meeting, which gives Steve more than enough time to shower himself, then make coffee. 

The only light in their living room is the soft white-gold of the lights strung up around the windows. Steve reaches to click on a lamp, then stops himself at the thought of dissipating that soft glow just yet. He'll leave them on for Sam to come home to and click them off when sunlight spills from the veranda into the living room.

*

"Here," Steve says and presses a cup of coffee into Sam's hands. "It'll warm you up."

An hour ago, he'd been dozing on the sofa, waiting for his husband to return from a mission Steve had hoped would end two days earlier. Now, he's not only awake, but ready to wrap himself up around Sam to wait for sunrise. 

"You warm me up." Sam's fingers brush against Steve's, but he doesn't refuse the hot drink. He takes a few sips while Steve still holds the mug for him, then turns up to press his lips against the inside of Steve's wrist. "Missed you." 

"Hm, sappy. Missed you, too, though," Steve murmurs. "So much." 

Sam takes the cup with a smile, but leans in to rest his palm against Steve's cheek Steve first. A light brush of his lips against Steve's, and then a soft, firm press that melts into an easy kiss and a soft sigh that fills the space between them when the kiss ends. 

The sun is barely up, just a faint glimmer of pale gold on the horizon, and the winter morning air feels fragile, almost brittle with cold. A few degrees lower and it would be too cold to stand outside on the veranda outside their apartments and wait for the sunrise. 

Steve buries his face in the back of Sam's neck and wraps his arms around his husband's waist. It probably _is_ too cold to be outside, but they're wrapped up in each other and in the few blankets they dragged from the sofa to watch the sun come up for the first time that year. 

"We got snow twice while you were gone," Steve murmurs into the warm crook of Sam's neck, then nuzzles a quiet kiss there. "Flurries the first time, then..." Steve nods towards the land around the Compound. "Then real snow a couple days ago. A good few inches." 

The bare branches of the trees are rimed with ice, frozen dew clinging to the tips of the smallest ones, and the grass is covered with the few inches of snow that fell while Sam was away. 

If they were in the city, DC or New York, that snow would have long turned a dull mid-winter grey. Here, though, the grass is a pale, pearlescent grey as dawn dissipates and the sun creeps closer over the horizon. Soft white peaks cover the grass and the farthest ones are already edged in faint rose-gold. 

"I'm glad it hasn't melted yet." Sam turns to nudge his nose against Steve's face, then murmurs a few kisses along his jawline. "I'm glad I came home in time to see this with you." 

Steve can feel Sam's smile against his skin, a faint curve of his lips and then a quiet kiss. Soon, they'll drag the blankets back inside and Steve will pile them up on their bed, every blanket they own, in an effort to make the softest, warmest nest he can manage. He'll carry Sam to that nest of blankets, slip his clothes off, and kiss every inch of his warm skin as he does so. He'll kiss Sam as sunlight spills over his skin, warm and gold and endless, and steal every gasp from Sam's mouth. 

If they end up spending the rest of the day in bed, Steve won't complain. How could he, when the man he loves came home to him only a few hours into the new year and asked to watch the run rise over the frost-rimmed grass with him? 

Steve tightens his arms around Sam and nuzzles against his shoulder, then makes a soft sound of approval when Sam holds the hot mug closer to his chest and takes a few more sips. By the time Sam's finished his coffee, offering sips to Steve every few minutes, the sun has crept over the horizon. The snow and sky are burnished in pink and flame-gold and orange, the faintest purple-grey at the edges as night melts away. 

Taking the mug from Sam, Steve turns Sam into his arms and wraps him in all the warmth that he has and that same warmth swells through Steve's chest, light and flame and all of it held in the arms of the man he loves. 

"Happy New Year, baby," Sam says, his voice low and soft, and all Steve can see is the way the sunlight tips his eyelashes gold. 

Steve's _happy new year_ gets blurred into a kiss that's another bare brush of lips. He kisses Sam again, smiles at the brush of Sam's nose against his, and leans in for a longer, deeper kiss. The snow-covered world around them is awash in golden light, on the brink of a new year, and Steve feels the newness, the joy and warmth, in the press of Sam's mouth against his, at the brush of Sam's eyelashes against his cheek as he leans up to kiss Steve over and over again.

*

"Did I wish you a Happy New Year?" Steve asks, hours later, after coffee and pancakes and the blankets tangled around their sweat-sheened bodies. He kisses Sam's bare shoulder and his chest, and looks up when Sam's fingers touch his hair.

Sam shifts on the bed to stroke the side of Steve's face, then to brush Steve's hair off his forehead. His face goes soft, sweet in a way that Steve knows is rare and private, and he touches the pad of his thumb to Steve's bottom lip. 

"I think you've done that ten times over," he says. The late morning around them is still and quiet, the sun long risen and the light now a pale gold over the snow. All Steve knows and cares about is the warm tangle of their limbs, the endless kisses between them, the new year unwinding in front of them.


End file.
